


Cupid Only Has One Eye

by lil_burd



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Dog - Freeform, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Fluff, I love dogs and I just want the boys to be happy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-09-28 03:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10069322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_burd/pseuds/lil_burd
Summary: On a dark summer night, Paul comes across a lost dog. Who could possibly be the owner of a one-eyed mutt?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This is my first attempt at fanfiction in ten years (please don't ask, too embarrassing). This work is un-beta'd, so please keep that in mind if you come across any errors. I'd love to hear any positive or negative feedback, suggestions or anything else. Don't be shy! Hope you enjoy :)

Paul sighed as he sat down and closed the door to his rusty Jetta. He was exhausted. Volunteering to be the designated driver (being a teensy bit tipsy doesn't count) for his friends on the 4th of July seemed like the noble thing to do at the time. But now he wished he had just called cabs for everyone and payed out of his own damn pocket.

It wasn't the cost of gas or taxi money that bothered him at the moment. It was the raging headache ping-ponging between the sides of his skull. The large amount of fireworks combined with the ruckus his friends made in his tiny car proved to be a lovely pairing. At least Tara and Rosita's drunken game of I Spy drowned out Glenn and Maggie's make out session.

  
He closed his eyes as he felt the cool air of his car’s AC wash over him. His sweaty skin felt tacky against the faux leather seats. Paul let the sound of singing crickets soothe his headache for a moment before turning on the classic rock station on his radio for the ride home.

  
Tara had referred to the party in the woods as _Jesus’-getting-over-being-dumped-by-Alex-and-also-our-nation’s-birthday-forest-gala-extravaganza_. The most ridiculous part of that title was that they broke up over two months ago now. He was fine!

He had to admit though, they had fun. But now, all he wanted to do was crawl into his bed and drink a giant glass of ice water and with a side of aspirin.

The sliver of a moon in the sky provided little to no light on the empty Virginia roads. Paul gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove down the dark road. Even with his high beams on, he felt anxious. Living close to a state park was great on his days off for a hike during the day, but during the night in his car, he couldn't help but lean forward and hold his breath. His heart sank at the sudden thought of hitting a deer or a bear and her cubs. Paul had to remind himself that he was just exhausted and to focus on the road ahead.  
  
As he neared the exit for the town, he saw a shadow run under the street light. Slowing down, he looked out of the passenger side window to see the unmistakable silhouette of a dog. He couldn't remember the last time he saw another car on the road. Was the dog a stray? Or feral? He slowed down enough that the dog noticed and looked over at him.

Even in the dim lighting of the street lamp, Paul could see that the panting creature had only one eye. Parking his car in the middle of the road, Paul cursed his deep compassion for animals and stepped out of his car. Looking over the hood of his car nervously, he saw that the dog stopped too, staring right back at him.  
  
He looked around the quiet road in the darkness. "Hey, puppy. You out here by yourself?" He asked, in a tone he would have also used on a small child.

The dog's ears perked up and he wagged his tail a few times, slowly. Paul took a couple cautious steps forward and kneeled on one knee. He made a few kissy sounds with his arm extended out to the animal. "Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just wanna see if you're okay, buddy."

Suddenly, the dog rushed at him and Paul nearly fell over. He let out a surprised yell as the dog gave him excited licks all over his face and neck. Grabbing at the creature's shoulders, Paul groped around the wet and dirty fur until he felt the rough texture of a worn leather collar.

Pulling the dog back gently, he laughed and said, "ok ok! I get it, you're friendly!" Paul laughed again as the dog let out what he could only understand to be a cry of joy and relief at finally finding a friend on the lonely road.

"Can you sit for me? Sit!" Paul commanded in what he hoped was a gentle tone. The dog obeyed immediately, though still squirming excitedly. "Ok, so you're clearly someone's dog. You got a tag, puppy?"

Turning the collar around the dog's neck, Paul sighed in relief as he felt the cool metal of a tag. Squinting in the faint light, he read aloud "Wilmer?" The dog jumped excitedly despite Paul's hold on the collar and let out a bark, then sat back on his hind legs obediently. His tongue lolled out of his panting mouth as he stared at the man in front of him. Turning the tag around, he could see a phone number despite the scratches and dirt on the small piece of metal. There was an area code he didn't recognize. Pulling out his phone, he stopped and stared at the time. 3:38am. He bit his lip and wondered if calling now was a good idea. Maybe waiting until proper daytime hours was better? Paul quieted the voice in his head that told him having a dog in his lonely apartment, even if only for one night, would be nice. Besides, looking at the dog's dirty fur, the owner would appreciate a nice clean dog upon return, right?

"Wilmer, you wanna come with me? You wanna go for a ride?" The dog's one eye lit up with happiness at the last word and wrenched himself free of Paul's grip, running to his car and pawing at the passenger side door. Paul grinned as he opened it up for his new friend, who immediately jumped in to sit politely in the seat.

"It's just one night, right Wilmer?" Wilmer looked over and gave a short wag of his tail before curling into the seat and falling asleep.  
  
The rest of the car ride home was uneventful for the duo.

  
\----

  
Cutting the engine, Paul looked over at the dog as he lifted his head and gave a lazy shake, his ears bouncing on either side of his head.

  
"You're a cutie. You know that, Wilmer?" Paul asked the dog with a smile, not really expecting an answer. Wilmer just wagged his tail and followed Paul out of the car as he stepped out from the driver's side. Paul's stomach dropped at he realized he had no leash or real way or securing him. His worry melted away when the dog sat patiently at his feet and leaned into him, seeming to wait for the man's next move.

"All right, then. Let's go inside, puppy" Paul said, checking over his shoulder to make sure the dog was indeed following him. Wilmer looked up at him adoringly with his one eye, and followed him into the stairwell of the old shop front. The pair's footsteps echoed in the barren stairwell, all the way up to the second floor. Paul smiled down at the dog as he fished for his keys. Opening the door, he looked down and said "après vous, mon ami!" And watched as Wilmer walked in, sniffing cautiously at his shoe rack and giving one sneaker a lick.

_Ok, I really need to sleep. I'm speaking French to a stranger's dog._

"Guess you're hungry, huh? Let's see what I can scrounge up for you" Paul walked to his fridge, not having to turn around to know that the clicks on the old wooden floor behind him were the dog's paws. Picking out anything that wasn't chicken or rice, Paul put down a bowl of two day old stir fry for Wilmer, who immediately started to devour it.

Now that they were in better lighting, Paul had the chance to really look at the dog. Despite the wet and dirty fur and the circumstances of meeting Wilmer, he looked well fed. The skin over his missing eye had healed over long ago, not even a patch of skin could be seen past the shaggy blond fur. And his kind nature and manners led Paul to believe that his owner cared for him deeply.

 _I bet the fireworks scared him. Poor little guy_. Paul tried not to feel too guilty as he yawned and ate the cold vegetables he picked out of the stir fry. Everyone and their mother set off fireworks on this day. He couldn't be held accountable for an entire nation's actions.

  
Glancing at the faded muddy paw prints on his old wood floor, Paul sighed deeply as he realized what he needed to do before him and his guest could sleep.

“Ok, Wilmer. You need a _bath_ ” Paul let out a belly laugh as Wilmer looked at him and immediately rolled on his side with his legs sticking out. “Oh no. You're not getting out of this. Come on.”

Grabbing the dog’s collar, he gently pulled until Wilmer gave in and followed him into his small bathroom. Paul watched in awe as the dog stepped into the tub all by himself, sitting (quite solemnly) on his haunches and looking up at the man with his head below his shoulders.

“I know this sucks, man. But after you're clean, you can sleep in my bed with me, ok?” Paul stuck the plug in the drain and made sure the water was a pleasant temperature before grabbing his shampoo and a wash cloth.

\----

Paul watched with a small smile as Wilmer dried himself off, seemingly in a frenzy, on the towel on the floor. He had quickly acquiesced the role of dog drier when Wilmer ripped the towel out of his hands to do the job himself.

Seemingly finished, the dog walked up to Paul and put his head on his pajama-clad leg, looking up at him with adoration and a wagging tail. Paul scrubbed his face with his hands. “Oh my God. Let's go to sleep before you make me cry from how cute you are.”

He patted the bed and of course Wilmer jumped up immediately, sniffing and nesting Paul’s sheets at the end of the bed before turning in a tight circle and plonking down. He looked at the man as he got in himself, turning off the bedside lamp. With his head on his pillow and his eyes already closed, Paul murmured “good night, doggo”.

Wilmer huffed out a sigh and closed his eyes, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl sighed as he sat down and closed the door to his rusty pickup truck. He was exhausted. Resting his head on the steering wheel, he let out a shuddering sigh. Looking for a dog in the middle of the night on deserted roads around a state park on the 4th of July proved to be an emotionally draining activity, to say the least.

He let Wilmer wander the lands near his cabin when he was at work all the time, knowing the blonde mutt would come galloping back home at the sound of his bike or truck’s engine. Sometimes with a rabbit or squirrel that he would proudly drop at his master’s feet.

But today was different. He usually only did a half day at work on the holiday, requesting it a few weeks in advance so he could spend the evening with his nervous wreck of a dog when the fireworks started. Abraham and Eugene both called the shop in sick with food poisoning and a nasty cold, respectively, leaving Daryl and Aaron to finish up some pushy asshole’s vintage sports car. The guy refused to leave until his car was running again, throwing an extra three hundred dollars in Daryl’s face. Refusing to admit he could use the extra cash, Daryl stayed with Aaron a few hours after closing time, finally finishing around ten pm.

His ride home was full of anxiety as he could hear the beginning of the evening’s fireworks in the area, knowing his poor dog was most likely in a full blown panic on his property. White-knuckling his bike’s handle bars, he prayed to whoever was listening that Wilmer didn't run off too far to get himself lost.

Daryl scrubbed his face with his hands, focusing on the tacky feel of his sweaty skin against the old leather seat of his truck, remembering once again that evening that that's exactly what had happened.

He’d adopted Wilmer from an Atlanta shelter down in Georgia four years ago, a few weeks after his brother was sentenced, knowing himself well enough that'd he fall apart from loneliness if he didn't have a companion. As soon as he looked into that dog’s one eye, Daryl knew he had to have him. The people working at the shelter told Daryl that Wilmer had had a rough upbringing. He was from an abusive home just like himself, and after one particularly bad beating, his eye needed to be removed completely. His previous owner surrendered him at the vet clinic then and there, deciding the dog wasn't worth his money and time anymore.

Daryl and the dog quickly became virtually inseparable. Daryl would bet his last damn dollar that his dog could sense that they both shared similar upbringings. Wilmer never gave Daryl any trouble as he took his time to train him. All the dog needed was a kind hand and loving attention.

Refusing to go down memory lane any longer, Daryl pushed back the wet heat behind his eyes that he refused to admit were tears, and took a minute to listen to the soft singing of crickets before turning on the classic rock station on his radio and driving home.

The sliver of a moon was enough for Daryl to still warily scan the roads for any sign of his dog, but as he pulled into his driveway with as much luck as he had over the last five hours, he decided he would try his luck again tomorrow morning. He knew he needed sleep if he was going to go into full tracker mode to find his dog.

Stepping inside his cabin, he averted his gaze away from any dog related items in his small home, bee-lining for his bed.

Not bothering to change into sleeping clothes, he threw his arm over his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He closed his eyes and let the evening’s exhaustion drag him into a restless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! Hope you enjoyed chapter two :)
> 
> Please feel free to send me any feedback!
> 
> Ps my tumblr is birdpanties


	3. Chapter 3

Paul’s body tensed as he felt something cold and wet push into the crease of his armpit. He figured he was dreaming and wormed himself further into his sheets.

Then something let out a long and quiet whine.

His eyes flew open.

“Oh yeah” Paul said, making eye contact with his guest. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he asked “do you have to go outside?”

Said guest immediately leapt off the bed and ran to the door, turning around to stare at the man and wiggling on the spot like his ass was on fire.

“Ok ok, I'm coming! Let me get some shoes on!” Slipping on his Birkenstocks (that Tara got him as a joke but that he actually loved), the duo descended down the stairwell, Wilmer at about five times as fast as Paul.

The late morning sun shone down in pretty beams through fluffy white clouds. Cicadas cried unseen in the trees overhead. A warm breeze blowed through and pushed Paul’s hair into his face.

Paul yawned again and squinted his eyes away from the hot morning sun as he watched the dog sniff around the small parking lot before deciding on the perfect spot to relieve himself. Paul turned around to give him privacy.

Still not fully awake, he jumped a bit when he felt that cold and wet thing again push into the palm of his hand. He looked down to see the blonde, scruffy face of the dog. The man smiled. “All done? Let's go back inside and get breakfast.”

\----

Paul stared at his phone with his chin on one hand while he ate his eggs and toast with the other, having made the same meal for Wilmer. His eyes then drifted to the piece of paper with the number that he copied from the dog’s tag. He should call now, right? It was a reasonable time in the morning. 10:32am to be exact.

He tried to tamp down the pang of sadness at the thought of not getting to see Wilmer again.

_Ok, Paul, stop being such a cry baby. You can always get your own dog. And keeping someone else's dog for yourself is absolutely unacceptable_.

Sitting up with determination and reaching for his phone, he stopped mid-grab when he saw it light up with a call from Tara. Letting the wave of relief of procrastinating the inevitable a little longer, he quickly answered the call.

“Hey! What's up? You're usually still asleep at this hour” Paul answered, hearing the enthusiasm is his own voice.

“Shut up, you weirdo. It's kind of a nice day out. I was thinking we could go for a jog around town. How about it, dude?”

Paul bit his lip. “Um... actually I can't right now. I kind of found a dog last night.” Paul glanced over at said creature, who had been licking his plate clean for the last two minutes.

“Excuse me? You found a _dog_? Whose dog? Is dog really a code word for a booty call?” Tara's voice had dropped a whole octave.

“No! I found a real dog, Tara. It was running around on the road in the middle of the night. I took him to my place for the night and gave him a bath. His name is Wilmer.”

There was a pause.

“Ok, so… what's the next course of action?”

Paul bit his lip. “Well, there's a number on the tag.”

“Did you call it yet?” Paul could practically see the motherlike hand on Tara’s hip.

“...No”

There was another small pause.

“Dude, you can’t fucking dognap someone's dog! What if some kid is out there crying every night because their dog is missing?”

“I know, ok! I was actually about to call before your accusatory ass called me.”

Tara huffed. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say. Just call that number now before I come over there and dognap that dog from _you_ instead.”

“Yes, _mom_. I'll call you if there's any update.”

Paul hung up his phone and rolled his eyes. How dare Tara. He was absolutely not dognapping Wilmer. He was just enjoying the dog’s company for as long as possible.

Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over him and as he pictured a little boy or girl crying inconsolably over their lost dog. Or maybe it was an elderly person missing their only companion.

Straightening his back and taking a deep breath, he picked up his phone and the piece of paper with the number on it, a look of pure determination on his face.

\----

Daryl had been out on his property since the sun cracked over the horizon. He had gotten about four hours of sleep, which he considered plenty given his current emotional state.

He had circled around the innermost parts of his land, hoping to find a fresh trail of his dog’s prints that led further away than usual. After an hour and a half following tracks as the sun beat down on him, he wound up on the main road leading into town.

He stopped at the sudden end of paw prints on the side of the road. Daryl stooped down on one knee to inspect the faint outline on a man’s boot. He looked up at the lamppost as if it had the ability to tell him what happened to his dog.

_Ain_ _’t no skid marks. Don't think he could’a been hit._ His stomach dropped at the mere thought. _Did somebody pick ‘im up? Why haven't they called yet? His collar fall off?_ Daryl’s mind raced as the mid morning sun’s rays made him squint as he looked in the direction of town.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Daryl was almost at a run back to his home to get on his bike and check the animal shelter in town.

\----

Parking his bike and removing his helmet, Daryl stood up from his bike and paused as he looked at the sign for the Suffolk Humane Society. His head swam as he could practically feel the heat of the late morning sun come off of the pavement.

What if Wilmer wasn't there? He'd have to go back home, alone again, and ...what? Wait until some kind of miracle happened? Daryl never once counted on luck to help him out. It would be just like the universe to take something away that made him happy once again. First his brother gets sentenced, now his damn dog is gone?

Daryl shook away his thoughts and walked towards the front door. He reached his arm out for the door handle but stopped when he felt his phone vibrate in his vest pocket. Jumping a bit, he scrambled to pull it out and answer it.

He narrowed his eyes at the unknown number.

He tentatively hit the accept button, trying to squash down the overwhelming wave of hope he was feeling

“Hello?” Daryl answered, trying not to sound as much of a mess as he felt.

“Hey! Uhh… so I think I have your dog? This number was on his collar. Wilmer, right?” The man on the other end replied.

Daryl choked on his own breath. He inhaled and said, “ya’ve my dog? He okay!?”

“Yeah. He's perfectly fine. He was a bit muddy and scared, but he’s all right otherwise.”

Daryl leaned against the brick wall of the building and breathed for a few seconds until he could feel his limbs again. He ran his hand through his sweaty helmet hair.

“Hello? You still there?” The stranger asked.

“Yeah. Sorry. Where’re ya?” Daryl asked urgently.

“Oh, right. Uhh… you know the travel agency in town? I live in the apartment above it.”

“Yeah. I'll be there’n five minutes.” He hung up his phone and jammed his helmet back on his head.

Maybe luck was on his side for once.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. My creativity died for a bit but it's back!!!

Paul looked down at his phone, a bit surprised at the abrupt end of the conversation. Thinking on it, he had a hard time blaming the guy, though. Who knows how worried he had been over Wilmer. He could sympathise with wanting to get back to his dog as soon as possible.

 

He looked down at said dog. “I guess I should put on pants, huh?”

 

Quickly jumping into the closest pair of jeans, Paul called over Wilmer and they both descended down the stairs of the two story building. Opening the door cautiously, Paul made sure to hold on to the dog's collar just in case. He sat down on one of the curbs on the parking spaces and beckoned Wilmer to sit beside him. 

 

He looked down at Wilmer, who seemed to know something was up. He had his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth and was looking around fervently, though still managing to sit politely on the hot asphalt. 

 

“It's ok, puppy. You're gonna go home.”  Paul patted him on his head.

 

Paul frowned at the sadness is his voice. He sighed and put his chin in his non-dog-petting hand. Maybe him and Tara could co-share a dog together? He mused over his thoughts for a few moments while absentmindedly petting Wilmer’s head. 

 

The sound of a loud engine coming closer and closer tore him from his thoughts.

 

Wilmer suddenly let out a yelp and Paul had just enough time to grab his collar before the dog could run head first into the quickly approaching bike. Paul watched in awe as the man practically jumped off his bike, showing no regard as it fell on its side. 

 

The man whipped off his helmet and Paul let go of Wilmer’s collar, watching them careen into each other. Paul couldn't help but smile wide as the other man crouched down and buried his head into the body of the squirming dog. The man stood up and held Wilmer like a small child, the dog still licking his face and wagging his tail. 

 

Paul now had a chance to get a good look at him. He was a few inches taller than himself. Dark hair that almost touched his shoulders, damp with sweat and flattened to his skull from his helmet. He wore dark denim and work boots, topped with a leather vest and nothing underneath, though it was buttoned up in the front. Broad shoulders jutted out like boulders and Paul felt his mouth water a bit.

 

He had stood up when he let go of Wilmer’s collar, but now Paul’s legs felt like jelly as he looked into the sharp blue eyes of the older man. He had to remind himself to breath. His mouth suddenly went dry, and not just from the heat of the day. Paul shook his head and reminded himself that this was not the time to ogle.

 

He opened his mouth to say something, although he wasn't sure what that was going to be, when the other man beat him to it. 

 

“I ain't got nothin’ on me to pay ya with.” He stood there awkwardly, still holding Wilmer in his arms. 

 

“Huh?” Paul cringed at his oh-so intelligent response.

 

He watched the other man look down and shift uncomfortably on his feet. He adjusted Wilmer in his arms, who seemed quite content at being held like a baby. A redness crept up into the older man’s neck to his cheeks. 

 

“For finding… for takin’ care a’ my dog.” His voice cracked a bit.

 

Paul put his hands out in front of him and laughed nervously. 

 

“Oh, no! That's not necessary. To be honest, it was really nice having him around. He's an amazing dog.” Paul cross his arms over his chest. “Really, it was no trouble.” He laughed nervously again and smiled, hoping he looked and sounded like a normal person. 

 

The other man looked at Paul suspiciously, but dropped his gaze and clenched his jaw. He looked back up and nodded. 

 

A warm breeze blew from behind Paul's back and he watched as it pushed the other man’s hair like he was in some kind of cologne commercial. Paul wasn't sure if he was suffering from sun stroke or dehydration, but he was almost positive that he was the most attractive man he had ever seen.

 

“Thank you.” It was barely louder than a whisper, but Paul heard it. 

 

“Yeah, of course, man. I was just doing the right thing. No need to thank me really.” Paul smiled softly. He could sense that the other man didn't agree with his sentiment, but he didn't push it.

 

He watched as the older man set Wilmer down on the ground, and looked over at his bike. The older man sighed loudly, slumped his shoulders and put his head in his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t think to bring my truck.”

 

Paul took a step forward. “We could take my car. It's small, but Wilmer didn't mind it last night. You could ride in front of us and I'll follow.”

 

He waited for an answer as the older man chewed on his lip, looking like he was really debating with himself to accept the offer. “A’ight. I can give ya gas money when we get there. Don’t have my wallet on me.”

 

Paul made a ‘pfft’ sound. “No way, man. I'm not asking for anything in return. To be honest, I feel kind of bad waiting so long to call you. If anything, we’re even.” He paused. “Sound good to you?”

 

The other man looked Paul up and down with narrowed eyes. Paul resisted the urge to squirm and hoped the blush he felt in his face from the intense stare wasn't noticeable. 

 

“Sure.” 

 

Paul smiled. “What's your name? I’m Paul Rovia. But my friends call me Jesus. Your pick.” He stretched his arm out to shake and squashed down the gasp in his throat as he felt the other man firmly take his hand and shake it. _Why was that kind of sexy?_

 

“Daryl Dixon.” 

 

“It's nice to meet you.” Paul smiled warmly as their hands dropped. “Hey, before we go, why don't you come up for a drink of water?” He jerked his thumb towards the building. “It's a damn hot day and you look kind of parched. I know I am and I've just been out here for ten minutes.”

 

Daryl blinked at Paul and looked down to see Wilmer run to the apartment door, paws scratching at the old solid wood.  Paul chuckled at the dog’s antics and Daryl let out a quiet huff.

 

The older man’s lips quipped up into a small smile. He looked sheepishly over at Paul, who grinned widely. “Guess I can’t say no, huh? Thanks… again.”

 

“It's no trouble. I'm happy to help, Daryl.” Paul opened the door for his new guest and they all ascended the stairs.

 

\---

 

Paul listened to the other man’s footsteps behind him on the wood floor as they made their way to his kitchen. 

 

He reached into his cupboard and pulled down two glasses, filling them with tap water. He remembered the bowl he had set down for Wilmer last night and bent down to refill it.

 

Turning around, he was surprised to see Daryl hadn't taken a seat at his small table. He was standing in the middle of the room with his arms tucked under his armpits, staring at the large rainbow flag Paul had been using as a curtain in his kitchen.

 

Feeling flustered, Paul cleared his throat. “I uhh. I went to New York last summer and picked that up at Pride. It's kind of a funny story, actually. But I won't trouble you with it, you probably don't wanna hear it.” Paul laughed nervously, trying to calm his nerves. He made eye contact with the older man and saw that Daryl had one eyebrow up in a quizzical stare. 

 

He cleared his throat again. “That doesn't bother you, right? That I'm… you know…” Paul waved his arms around, as if the flapping of arms was a universal sign for ‘gay’.

 

Daryl huffed and a gave a small smirk. “Nah, man. It's all good. Ain't no homophobe.”

 

Paul let out a breath and smiled, still feeling a bit flustered. 

 

“That’s um… good to hear. Just, living in Virginia and all. You don't know what people think, you know?” Paul gestured to the table and watched as Daryl took a seat and gulped down half of his glass or water. Paul sat across from him.

 

Daryl nodded without looking up from his water. He cleared his throat, changing the subject. 

 

“Is there somethin’ I can do to repay ya? Don't feel right after ya took care a’ my dog.”

 

“Really, Daryl, it's all right. I'm not looking for a cash reward or anything.” Paul grinned and scratched the back of his neck, hoping the older man could accept his genuine act of kindness. What kind of person would he be if he left a poor dog wandering the road?

 

“Ya need any work done on your car? I work at Dale’s shop on the south side a’ town. Could give ya a tune up, or change your oil or somethin’.”

 

Paul looked at him, having a hard time believing how adamant Daryl was at repaying him for caring for Wilmer. Unfortunately, Paul didn’t need work done on his car. As old and beat up as it looked, his Jetta ran just fine. For now, anyway.

 

He suddenly had an idea, though.

 

“That’s a really kind offer, but my car is running fine. For now, at least.” Paul shifted in his seat. “Maybe something else, though?” Paul cringed at how high his voice sounded.

 

“What is it?” Daryl narrowed his eyes at Paul.

 

Paul wrung his hands on the table. “I was thinking, it's if not too much trouble for you, I could look after Wilmer again some time.” Paul couldn’t help but notice Daryl’s squinting at him. “It’s just that it was really nice having him around, you know? My work schedule doesn’t really allow me to have a dog of my own and none of my friends have dogs, so…” Paul stopped himself before he started rambling. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms, hoping to look casual.

 

Daryl tapped his fingers quietly on the table, mulling over the idea for a long moment.

 

“I’m gonna be down in Atlanta for the weekend, ya could have ‘im then if ya want." Daryl paused and let out a sigh. "Though ya’d be helpin’ me out again…”

 

“No way! It’d really be a pleasure.” Paul smiled broadly and a took a sip of water. “What are you going down to Georgia for? If you don't mind me asking.”

 

Paul could not have felt more excited. He’d get to see Wilmer again and Daryl didn’t think he was a complete weirdo. Hopefully.

 

Daryl looked down at his now empty glass and played with it for a moment, looking uncomfortable. Paul hoped he hadn’t crossed any boundaries. They had just met after all, and the man seemed to him like a private person. 

 

He was about to tell him it wasn’t important when Daryl looked up. “He’s in prison. Was caught dealin’ meth for a gang in Atlanta. Judge gave ‘im a longer sentence than necessary. Said some shit about makin’ an example.” Daryl let out a loud breath and put his head in his hands for a few seconds. He lifted his head back up and looked away, his expression showing his thoughts were a thousand miles away,

 

Paul blinked, opening and closing his mouth a few times, not knowing what to say.

 

“I’m sorry, Daryl. You won’t see any judgement from me, promise.” Paul felt awful for getting into his business. He tried making eye contact with the other man, but his gaze remained averted. He tried to change the subject. “ You two must be close if you’re going to visit him all the way down there.” 

 

Daryl looked to Paul for a moment before nodding slowly. He looked away again, tensing his shoulders. He suddenly stood and grabbed the glass, making his way to the sink and placing it on the counter.

 

“We should get goin’. Thanks for the water. You ready, Wilmer?” He looked down at his dog, who had been snoozing underneath the kitchen table.

 

Wilmer stood up slowly and looked at Daryl and then to Paul, his tail and ears cast downward. Daryl bent down on one knee ruffled the fur on his neck.

 

“It’s okay, buddy. You’ll see ‘im this weekend.” Daryl’s voice was soft and there was a small smile on his face, his eyes crinkling sweetly.

 

Paul’s heart melted at the sight. _Great, now I have a thing for older men who love their dogs_.

 

They stood up at the same, an awkward silence following.

 

“Hey, Daryl, I’m really sorry for being nosy. It’s not my business what you do, especially considering we just met today.”

 

“Nah, it’s all good. I just ain’t the best conversationalist.”

 

Daryl gave Paul a sheepish smile and he returned it with a broad grin.

 

\---

 

Paul watched Daryl ride ahead through his windshield, focusing on the bits of his hair poking out from his helmet blowing in the wind. Looking down he saw his shoulders and arms flexing from his grip on the handlebars. Paul was thankful traffic was slow and that his attention didn’t have to be so divided.

 

He looked over at Wilmer in the passenger seat and smiled, the dog’s head sticking out of the window, looking like he was having the time of his life.

 

Cicadas continued to scream in the hot July sun and Paul more than once had to slap an unwelcome mosquito or three. He had all his windows open, preferring the warm breeze to putting the AC on.

 

It wasn’t that long of a ride to Daryl’s place, half an hour at most. Paul drove up his driveway and parked behind his bike. Stepping out of his car with Wilmer, he felt a wave of nervousness he hadn’t anticipated.

 

_ Okay, Paul, chill. This was not a date. He’s not even gay. You’re just a nice guy who saved his dog and now maybe you’re friends. Act cool. _

 

Walking along the gravel, both men watched as the dog ran around the driveway and house as if he had been gone for weeks instead of one night.

 

“This is your place, huh? It’s nice. Seems really private.” 

 

Trees surrounded the small area that had been cleared for the house and driveway. Various building supplies and wood scraps surrounded the right side of the clearing. A couple of dog toys were strewn about. The house itself was modest, more of a cabin. Recent work had been done on it, a new door and windows clashed against the old frame and roof. But to Paul it looked quaint.

 

“Yeah. Bought this place after Merle was sentenced. Just needed a fresh start.” He glanced over at Paul, who nodded and smiled.

 

“Yeah, I understand that.”

 

They held their stare for a few seconds. Paul felt immobile under the intense blue gaze of the older man, who eventually broke eye contact and cleared his throat.

 

“It all right if I drop ‘im off at your place on Friday? What time’s best for ya?” He turned to look fully at the younger man, arms once again tucked under his armpits.

 

Paul quickly thought of his work schedule, remembering that Morgan usually had the new kid Noah teach the evening classes on Friday at the gym.

 

“I’ll finish work around three. Any time after that is fine. You have my number in your phone, right? You can just send me a text or call me.”

 

Daryl nodded and both men watched the dog run around, both enjoying the summer heat. A voice in the back of Paul’s mind told him this sounded an awful lot like a date.

 

_ It’s not. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow hello, all!
> 
> I want to apologize for the huge updating gap. I suffer from bouts of zero motivation to write but I'm looking to change that and be more consistent. So if you're still reading, thanks for your patience. If this is your first time reading this fic, welcome! :^)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it!

Paul woke the next morning after an uneasy sleep. He had gone over in his mind again and again his encounter with Daryl, his racing thoughts making it difficult to fall asleep.

He had never met someone quite like him before. Stiff and quiet, yet kind and with a magnetic demeanor. Paul thought of the broadness of his shoulders and the glint in his dark blue eyes. He sat up quickly in his bed, running a hand through his face and hair, and got up.

_I can’t be having a crush on this guy. There’s no way he’s not as straight as an arrow._

Paul splashed cold water on his face before brushing his teeth.

_Not to mention I’m also his official dogsitter. It’s just unprofessional when you think about it._

He stepped into the shower and told himself his decision for making the water colder than usual was because it was another hot summer morning, not because he was trying to cool down after his thoughts of Daryl. He put all his effort into focusing on sudsing up his hair and body, refusing to allow his mind to wander to the older man. He absolutely did not, for one second, imagine Daryl in the shower with him.

Paul also did not, for one second, think about his half hard dick.

He turned off the water with more energy than needed and stepped out, towelling off quickly and leaving his long hair wrapped up. Picking up his phone, he was relieved to see a message from Tara, a welcome distraction.

 

**TARA**

**_9:52am_ **

**_Dude want to grab lunch before you work?_ **

**_Do you still have that dog??_ **

 

**PAUL**

_**10:07am** _

_**Nope. I called the guy and he picked up Wilmer.** _

_**Want to meet at Tyreese's kitchen at 11?** _

 

Paul was about to set his phone down to get dressed when he saw Tara had immediately replied.

 

** TARA **

**_10:07am_ **

**_W H A T. You have to tell me everything!!_ **

 

Paul rolled his eyes even as he smiled. He of course planned on telling Tara all about meeting Daryl, but keeping her in the dark for a bit had its own fun. She had always been a bit too involved in Paul’s love life anyway, constantly trying to set him up with people from the bar she worked at and from the clinic where her girlfriend Denise worked at, too.

Sitting down on his bed with phone in hand, Paul considered telling Tara about his attraction to the older man. Once spoken out loud, he knew he could no longer deny the little crush he was quickly developing. It would be real.

But maybe discussing his attraction and how straight Daryl was would allow his brain to rationalize the feelings away. Crushing on straight people was something him and Tara had bonded over many times over the course of their friendship.

Throwing on a plain white tee and blue jeans, Paul packed up his gym bag with the necessities for the martial arts classes he would be teaching later that afternoon. He slipped on his running shoes and locked the door behind him.

\----

Dale’s Auto was on the southeast side of town. The commute was longer than some people would have liked, but for Daryl, it was time he had learned to appreciate. Any opportunity to get on his bike was time well spent in his opinion.

He rolled out from under the van he had been working on and looked over at Wilmer, who sat on some blankets he had put down on the greasy concrete floor of the garage. The dog had been chewing on a huge smoked bone for the last few hours, a treat Daryl had gotten him on their way to the shop.

Wilmer looked up with his one eye, wagged his tail at Daryl, and resumed chewing.

He had decided to bring the dog to work with him. He told himself it was because he knew the customers and other mechanics loved having him around, not because he was anxious about leaving his dog at home after the whole missing fiasco.

Standing up, Daryl decided to take his lunch break and walked over to Wilmer, kneeling down beside him and checking his water. He brought the dog into his arms and scratched his sides. The dog, despite his reluctance to let go of his bone, returned the affection with a few licks to the man’s scruffy beard and leaned in. Daryl put his face in the dog’s clean fur and breathed in, the scent of someone else’s shampoo reminding him of the younger man from yesterday.

Paul.

Daryl suddenly let go of Wilmer and watched as he went back to his bone, not noticing or caring about the sudden spike of his owner’s heartbeat. Standing up again, he shook his head and focused on walking over to Abraham, who was tinkering away on some engine part.

He didn’t let thoughts of the younger man’s sea green eyes or long honey colored hair invade his thoughts. Or the way sweat collected on his chest in the hot summer sun. Or his sweet and open smile, which seemed to be constantly on his face.

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Abraham, whose drug store glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose made him look more like a surly grandmother than a 6”4 ex marine.

The red haired man chuckled, a sardonic smile on his face. “Can I help you, sunshine?”

“Was thinkin’ of ordering some pizzas for lunch. You in or nah?” Daryl refused to meet Abe’s eyes and his body was turned away from the other man. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck and it made his glare on the nearest oil stain on the floor intensify.

Abraham’s eyebrows went skyward. “Well!” He put the piece of machinery in his hands down and crossed his arms, an obvious mockery of Daryl’s stance, “I’d love to go Dutch with you on some pizzas, my friend, but first you have to tell me about this dog savin’–”

“Nevermind, ya jackass!” Daryl grumbled and turned to walk away.

“You have to tell me all about your new dog savin’ lover boy!” Abraham roared. He stood up, following Daryl. Abraham’s tone, though loud, was lighthearted and teasing, much to Daryl’s misery.

The two had met at Dale’s mechanic after Daryl had been hired. Abraham’s boisterous personality and pension for being everyone’s friend at first rubbed Daryl’s nerves the wrong way. But pretty quickly, their contrasting dispositions had led to an easy going friendship. One which Daryl appreciated greatly, not that he’d ever tell Abe.

“There ain’t no ‘lover boy’, Ford! He just found my dog and called me. That’s it!” Daryl seethed. He hoped the forced anger in his voice would mask his embarrassment and discomfort.

“Oh, now we both know that’s not true. Your face got as red as a virgin on her wedding night when you started tellin’ me about this fellow. It’s a real shame you didn’t get to the good parts.” Abraham waggled his eyebrows when Daryl whipped his neck around to glare at him.

Daryl began fumbling around with sets of keys hooked on the wall, pretending to be doing something important. He huffed when he realized Abraham wasn’t going to leave him alone.

The taller man put a hand on Daryl’s shoulder and lowered himself so they were eye level. “When’s the last time you got some ass anyway, Dixon? I’m real concerned for you, ya know. Gettin’ all worked up over some kind stranger ain’t too healthy.”

“Fuck you.” Brushing the other man off of him, Daryl sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “I regret telling you I’m gay, ya know that? Shoulda stayed in the damn closet.” He fought back a small smile at Abraham’s genuine hearty laugh. “Don’t ya have a love life of your own to worry about? How’s your barely legal Latina lover doing?”

Daryl felt a small wave of satisfaction as the other man sputtered and his face reddened. “She is not barely legal! She’s twenty-five! And things are just hunky fuckin’ dory, thank you very much for asking. In fact, I’m throwin’ her a surprise birthday in two weeks. You should bring your sorry ass.”

“Ya know I don’t do well in _social situations_ ,” Daryl made sure to enunciate the last two words clearly.

“Yeah, yeah. But Rosie says she misses ya, Dixon. For some reason, she enjoys your company. Can’t imagine why since you’re as sour as a lemon.”

Abraham put his arm on his friend’s shoulder when he heard his unintelligible grumble, “oh, come on! Just a few drinks and then we’ll release you back into the wild. Whaddya say?”

Daryl looked up at Abraham through the corner of his eye. “If I go, will ya leave me alone about the guy who found my dog?”

The taller man smiled down at him with a toothy grin. “You bet your pale, Georgian ass I will not! But I will buy us those pizzas to make up for it, my friend.”

  
“Whatever, you ginger jackass.” He walked over to Wilmer and clipped his leash on. He usually let Wilmer run free but being in town meant certain by-laws had to be respected.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and shouted, “I’m takin’ my dog for a walk, and when I come back, I wanna see some pizzas. Extra sausage!” He exited the building and went out of eyesight, smirking at Abraham’s loud laughter.

\----

“All right. I’m ready to order. What about you, Tara?” Paul kept his finger on the special of the day, not wanting to lose what he wanted from the menu.

He had avoided Tara’s pointed gaze as he perused the menu, not quite ready to answer all the questions he knew she had.

Paul watched as she leaned back with an unamused smile on her face.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I always get the same thing here, dude.” She closed her menu and leaned on her forearms on the table. “Are _you_ ready?”

Paul raised an eyebrow and pretended to not know what she meant, “ready for what?”

Tara slammed her fist on the table in an exaggerated and dramatic fashion, “to tell me what the _fuck_ happened with you and this mystery dog man! I’ve been sitting here this whole time, as your best friend, waiting for you to spill the beans! And what do I get?” Tara leaned forward more and looked at the man across her, who stared at her indignantly and silently. “That’s right! Nothing!” She sighed and leaned back into the booth, seemingly out of breath.

Their server walked up to their table, “are y’all good to order?”

Her nametag said ‘Sasha’, though practically everyone knew her and Tyreese were the owners of the diner. The brother and sister duo made it a point to familiarize themselves with everyone and anyone who came into their mom-and-pop style restaurant.

They both greeted Sasha by name and exchanged pleasantries. After putting in their orders and giving Sasha their folded menus (bacon and eggs for Tara, clam chowder and toast for Paul), Tara crossed her arms and looked at Paul expectedly.

“What?” Paul sighed and crossed his arms as well, mirroring her.

“Jesus, you know what! Please. I’ll beg if I have to,” Tara pleaded. She clasped her hands in front of her as if in prayer.

Sitting back in his seat, Paul rolled his eyes and smiled. “All right, all right. Settle down.” He absentmindedly began rolling up a napkin in a ball, rolling it around in small circles on the tabletop, a dreamy smile on his face. “It all started after I drove everyone home from the Fourth of July party…”

Tara listened, enraptured, eyes never leaving Paul’s as she devoured every word of her friend’s encounter with the man on the motorcycle.

Although she was incredibly happy in her relationship with her girlfriend, she did miss the drama and excitement of flirting and blooming romances.

When Paul finished, he watched as his friend sat back and thoughtfully took a bite of her last piece of bacon.

“You know what I think?,” pointing her morsel of bacon at Paul, she waited half a second before continuing, “I think you should text him and ask him to hang out. You know, find out if he’s into dudes.”

“What?! Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds? He’s going to think I’m insane. And how would I even go about finding out if he’s into guys?” Paul stared at Tara, almost regretting his decision to tell her everything. “Besides! I’m already gonna see him next weekend when he drops off Wilmer. I don’t want to come off as desperate.”

Tara stared back, looking like she couldn’t believe how dumb Paul was.

“Ask him, dummy. I mean the worst that can happen is he says he’s straight and then you apologize and if he’s a decent human being, he’ll be totally cool about it.” Tara popped the last bit of bacon into her mouth and wiped her hands on a napkin.

  
Rolling his eyes, Paul lifted his bowl to his face and loudly slurped the last of his clam chowder.

“I don’t want to completely alienate the guy. It would be nice if we could at least be friends. He seems interesting, you know? He’s nice and, and...”

“Handsome, mysterious, brooding, muscular?” Tara sipped her coffee to hide her smile.

Paul looked down and smiled, too. He put his head in hands and let out a frustrated groan of defeat.

“Fine, fine! I’ll text him. Casually ask him how Wilmer’s doing or something.” That didn’t sound too crazy to him.

“Do it right now!”

“Tara, come on! I’m gonna sound so obvious. I just met him yesterday.” Paul looked at his coffee mug, dismayed that it was empty. He looked around the restaurant for Sasha to get a refill.

“Think about it. What if he texts you back? What if he’s totally interested, dude? Wouldn’t you love to know that right away? Then you wouldn’t have to sit around for days and wonder what he really thinks. Trust me, it’s how I got with Denise.” Tara crossed her arms over her chest, smirking, feeling triumphant.

“Right,” Paul responded, sarcasm dripping from the word.

He reached into his pocket and reluctantly pulled out his phone, finger tentatively over the message icon under Daryl’s name.

Sighing, he typed a short message and quickly hit send before he could change his mind. He pushed the phone over to his friend so she could see the evidence of his bravery.

“Yes! That’s my boy!” Tara fist pumped the air and laughed as Paul hid his face in embarrassment.

\----

Daryl handed over the money Abraham gave him and told Glenn he could keep the change. He deserved a good tip. Owning your own pizza store was one thing, but actually putting in time to help out and deliver the pizzas with your staff? Now that was respectable.

Looking down at the boxes, he had to roll his eyes at the choice of logo. A smiling, cartoon rendition of Glenn’s face covered half the box. Underneath it said “Glenn’s Pizzeria” in huge letters with the phone number and address.

He plopped the three boxes on the least cluttered counter in the shop and called for the guys to come and eat.

He nodded silently as his co-workers thanked him and took slices of the fresh pizza on their plates.

Taking a generous serving for himself (three slices of pepperoni and anchovies), Daryl took a stool beside his only friend at the shop and hoped Abraham would let him eat in peace.

“Don’t know how you can eat that shit, Daryl. Fish on pizza, seriously?”

“Guess I just have a more refined palate than you, Ford.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, princess.” Abraham bit into his own pizza after dabbing it with a napkin to get rid of the excess oil. “So we’re all meeting at my house at five-thirty two Fridays from now. That way we have time to prep for when Rosie gets there around quarter after six. You better be there, numb nuts.”

“Mm. Yeah I’ll be there, asshole.”

Daryl thought of how the odd couple had already exchanged keys to each other's homes despite only being together for roughly four months. Was that normal? Not really having much experience with dating, he wasn’t sure if that was a usual amount of time.

Eating his pizza in silence while his chatty friend was distracted on his phone, Daryl thought of how he’d already been in Paul’s apartment. He remembered seeing the rainbow flag in front of the window and Paul’s easy admission of being gay.

That was a way more intimate interaction with a stranger than he was used to. He was real glad he didn’t mention any of that to his nosy friend.

But what if Paul was hinting at being interested in him? Did normal gay men just share that with people they had just met? Daryl always thought that that was something you did when you were interested in hooking up with another guy.

Ceasing his chewing for a second, Daryl remembered he still had Paul’s number in his phone in the recent calls list. He could send him a message, just strike up a conversation with him. They weren’t really strangers anymore, anyway.

Daryl sat up a bit straighter and breathed out harshly through his nose, relieved when he looked up and saw that Abe hadn't noticed his change in demeanor.

_There’s no fuckin’ way a guy like that would want anythin’ to do with me. He's too young n’ good lookin’ to wanna be with trash like me._

He nibbled on his crusts morosely, letting his insecurity and frustration wash over him for a few moments.

The sound of someone’s phone’s notification sound made him flinch a bit. He looked at Abe, who was busy playing some stupid game on his phone.

“S’not me, brother.” Abraham’s eyes quickly flicked back to his own device, his other hand feeding pizza into his mouth.

Reaching into the front pocket of his worn jeans, he pulled out his phone and felt his heart jump into his throat when he saw he had a new message from an unsaved number. Opening it without a second thought, his eyes went over the text a dozen times before the words sunk in.

 

** _(UNKNOWN NUMBER)_ **

**_12:49pm_ **

**_Hey, Daryl! Just wanted to see how you and Wilmer are doing (It's Paul btw) :^)_ **

 

“What’s wrong?” Abraham asked.

Daryl jumped a bit, the sudden question bringing him back to reality.  “Nothin’s wrong,” he griped back.

He could feel the redness crawling up his face from his neck and hoped Abraham didn’t notice. Avoiding any eye contact, he slammed his phone down, shoved another pizza slice into his mouth, and looked at the nearest car in the shop with a practiced look of thoughtfulness.

In other words, Daryl was trying to play it cool.

His mind ran a million miles wondering what the message could mean. Sure, Paul had only asked how he was doing, but was that all he really meant? His fingers tapped the countertop rapidly, a nervous habit. They had agreed again to meet up the following weekend, so why bother shooting him a message so soon? His fingers moved over to his phone. The thought of picking it up and replying versus leaving it where it was and dealing with it later bounced in his head.

He did not see Abraham’s quizzical stare pointed at him.

“Your hot new crush send you a text, princess?”

Daryl’s eyes flicked sharply up to his friend’s, a vicious glare in place. “Shut the fuck up.” The words were harsh, fuelled by embarrassment. He slumped back into his seat with a deep sigh and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Opening his eyes after a moment, Daryl looked at a grease stain on the concrete floor. He breathed out another heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

The admission, thought reluctant, had lifted a burden off his shoulders. It was out in the open now. He had a stupid crush on someone he had just met.

“Well what the fuck does it say?” Abraham asked. His question was met with the same heated glare from before. “Are you gonna tell me or do I have to get Eugene to hack or jack or whatever into your phone?”

Daryl rolled his eyes but decided to share with Abraham anyway. He opened the text again, just to make sure it was really there and that he hadn't imagined it. He read it out loud and mentioned the stupid little smiley face.

Noticing the sliver of vulnerability on Daryl’s face, Abraham decided to not give a teasing remark. For now. “So you gonna respond or leave him hangin’?”

Shrugging, Daryl replied, “dunno. What do you think I should say?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Shocked at the request for advice from his romantically stunted friend, Abraham needed a moment before replying. “Well, dummy, he asked you how you and Wilmer are. Start with that.”

Daryl gave him another look but nodded.

Tapping out his response, he turned his phone to Abe before hitting send. He figured the guy knew a thing or two, considering he had somehow managed to get with Rosita.

**I'm fine thx. Wilmer's good too**

“Oh for the love of- ...give me that!” Abraham snatched the phone and ignored the cry of protest from Daryl. Typing on the other man’s phone, he asked Daryl at the same time, “you call that flirting? You're never gonna get the guy in bed sounding like a goddamn church pastor.”

Daryl snatched his phone back, but it was too late. The sent message on his phone stared back at him and a panic started to bubble in his stomach.

 

_**DARYL** _

**_12:53pm_ **

**_We're both doing great,_ _thanks!_ **

**_How_ _are you doing?_ _;)_**

 

The message was totally unlike him. He would never in a million years send a winky face.

He put his phone back down on the table and shot Abraham an icy glare. “How could you do this, man?!” Daryl began pacing back and forth on the stained concrete floor with his phone in hand.

Abraham leaned back in his chair. “Oh relax, princess!”

Ignoring him, he replied, “what the hell is Paul gonna think? Dammit, Abe! I can’t believe ya did this.” Daryl ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly.

“Would you just sit down! You’re givin’ me a headache.” He watched as Daryl reluctantly sat down and glared at him. “What he’s gonna think is that you’re interested in him, which _ya are.”_

Daryl looked at him with a blank stare, lips pursed, foot tapping.

Biting into another slice of pizza, Abraham looked at his friend and proclaimed, “you’ll be thankin’ me when ya get ‘im in bed on all fours.” He ended with a very pointed wink.

Daryl didn’t respond. He couldn’t help the redness in his face that crept up quickly from his neck. He also couldn’t help the image of Paul, on all fours, waiting for him in his bed.

Shaking his head of his inappropriate thoughts, he shoved the remainders of his pizza slice into his mouth and stared at his phone, waiting on edge for a response.


End file.
